


Why Aren't You Dating My Daddy?

by NSquared



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Parent!lock, Sherlolly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-26
Updated: 2016-02-26
Packaged: 2018-05-23 07:57:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6110164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NSquared/pseuds/NSquared
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock has a son, his name is William, and he's got a question for the Pathologist on duty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why Aren't You Dating My Daddy?

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any of the Sherlock characters, this was written completely for fun!

“And I’m telling you, Sherlock, a morgue is not a place for a six year old!”

“You say that now, John, but there is one big part of this puzzle that you are not considering.

“Puzzle? What pu-You know, okay what.” Calming down his angry stammering the Doctor calmed himself “What is it?” he sighed to his friend.

“This six year old you are trying to protect is my son.”

John rolled his eyes “Of course, being the son of _Sherlock_ _Holmes_ would automatically mean that you were immune to trauma.”

“Virtually.”

“He’s still one half her, you know.”

The Consulting Detective, previously only halfheartedly really arguing with his best friend on his chair-sat reading a newspaper (looking for clues about his next mission from Mycroft)-slowly-and quite ominously as well-started folding the newspapers.

“You don’t _know_ who you’re talking about.”

“Sherlock, I’m not an idiot.”

“It appears, Doctor Watson that you are, didn’t I tell you that discussions about this person is strictly prohibited in 221B? Or were you so inclined on being an utter _idiot_ that you decided that what I said didn’t matter at all, after, all?”

In previous years, the slow, villainous way Sherlock spoke, as well as ending his words with punctuations, those would have intimidated John Watson.

But, frankly, after finding out that his roommate of two years had a son-who was being kept safe by his grandparents-by having a visit from said roommate’s seldom seen big brother, he didn’t really care anymore.

Those small moments that, he believed, Sherlock didn’t see of him admiring Sherlock Holmes as a father to his son, had erased almost all the memory of Sherlock Holmes ever having an expression on his face that wasn’t tender and adoring.

And so the only response that the great Detective and great father, though definitely _not_ good on both accounts, received was a roll of his blogger’s eyes.

“I would yell at you for calling me an idiot, but you’re right, I was being an idiot after that.” Honest to a flaw, John Watson relented, Sherlock nodded “But that doesn’t mean that your son won’t be traumatized if you take him to the bloody morgue!” Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“Calm down, John, it’s a hanging, not a killing.”

The Doctor stopped “You took a suicide?”

“I was hired to bring back the money the suicidal hid.” The man gave a great big grin “I believe he swallowed the necklace that the coordinates were engraved on, _however,_ those coordinates won’t lead us to the location of the treasure.”

“Well, then where?”

“It will lead us to the body of the next suicidal.”

“How could you have known that already?”

“Two suicidal partners, either that or she’s left her girlfriend and decided to live the grand life she’d dreamt of living in New Zealand after all.” The man stood when skipping footsteps started at the stairs “We’re hoping she’s dead.” The great-but not good-father _and_ Detective crouched and held his arms out to get ready for the boy bounding for him.

His high pitched laughter lightened the rooms and warmed them better than the hearth “Are we still seeing Miss Molly today, Daddy?”

The two men made eye contact.

“Yes.”

A roll of a pair of eyes.

“Yes, we most certainly are.” The father bounced his son in his arms.

 

It had been six years ago when the elusive dominatrix had completely severed her connection to Sherlock Holmes and completely with the Holmes family-most importantly to _all_ of the Holmes Boys-when she visited-at the dead of night-Mr and Mrs Holmes, an infant in her arms, a farewell at her lips, and a name written on a piece of paper in her hand.

‘Sherlock Holmes’ it read.

‘I’m not a mother, nor will I ever be. You know that, _I_ know that. Yes, I am sure. I will never change my mind. However, _you_ have never been quite as adamant about the absence of children in your life. So here, I leave him, to you. Forever.

P.S.

If he asks about me, tell him the truth, and only the truth.’

 

Sherlock Holmes’ son didn’t disappoint that day, he ran deductions nearly as fast as his father, impressing even the Pathologist on duty; Molly Hooper.

She showed him the cadavers that had died of natural causes, even helped him up on a stool when his godfather’s arms had gotten tired of lifting up the barely tall enough child to more clearly see the bodies.

However, it was not much of a surprise to his father and the two Doctors present in the room when after he saw a particular cadaver with its cavity opened-and empty-that he would end up decorating the floor with his lunch.

The pork was unfortunately too tempting for the boy despite warnings from his father beforehand.

“I’m so sorry, Daddy!” he cried, not quite done yet as he went on a second round.

“I told you, Holmes, I _told_ you!” John grumbled angrily as he coached the young boy with his hands.

“There’s nothing to apologize for, I knew something like this would happen.”

“Don’t worry about cleaning things up! I’ve got it!” the small Pathologist-prepared-had ran off only a little ways and rolled back a mop and its bucket.

“Perhaps, _open_ cadavers wouldn’t be such a good idea.” The Doctor snatched the handkerchief from the father and wiped the son’s mouth.

“Perhaps _this_ wasn’t such a good idea.” John dodged a second time; the boy had a lot of pork.

“But I loved seeing the-puke-cadavers Uncle Joh-puke-n…hnngurgh.”

“I am _so_ sorry! You are absolutely right, John.” Molly’s voice shook as she dodged the-too late-puke. Now her shoes were covered in the green bits.

“Molly!” because up until that moment she had been on Sherlock’s side about the education of his son the Detective felt betrayed.

“No, Miss Molly!” the young boy looked up-caught the cadaver from his peripheral view-and puked. However, this boy was Sherlock Holmes’ son, he wasn’t one to quit “You promised Daddy you would help him help me explore the science of the origin and the cause of deceases!”

Cutting her off before she even started to stammer the _other_ Doctor in the room proposed “Alright, how about a compromise?”

And thus the protocol of taking the youngest of the Holmes Boys straight to the Pathologist’s office first and being briefed of what he may or may not see was made.

It was six months later and more than an appropriate amount of visits from the son and father that ‘Miss Molly’ and Sherlock Holmes’ charming, _charming_ son had a conversation that neither of them would ever forget.

“Daddy’s in a hurry, isn’t he?” the boy asked, he grew just the tiniest bit in those six months, he had propped his chin on her desk as he watched her set up the files and the photos that she had taken of the body beforehand.

“Hm? Oh yes, he is, it’s an urgent case.”

“All his cases are urgent.” The Pathologist took her eyes off of the computer screen in order to give the boy a short examination.

In these short moments that the two of them had during visits from him and his father the room would usually be filled with encouragements to go faster than she usually already was.

So it wasn’t much of a surprise that the woman in the room who spent most of her days examining dead bodies, deducing, _diagnosing_ would catch on to the boy’s less than subtle change in behavior.

Returning her eyes back to the computer screen in less than a second Molly Hooper wondered.

Was the boy feeling neglected? Did she need to talk Sherlock down a peg or two again or did she need to deliver a few more well deserved slaps? But surely, based on what she’d seen of the father, he wouldn’t mess up _that_ badly.

“William.”

The boy fisted his hands, of course she would realize he was acting strange, quicker than he’d anticipated at that!

“What’s this about?” along with her question the Pathologist turned her computer’s monitor and selected the slide option, while simultaneously-used to his badgering-presenting the appropriate hardcopy files to him.

“It looks like there were three lethal gunshot wounds, it wasn’t about a random mugging, I’ve got to tell you that.”

“William.” And it was that same tone of voice that made him act the way he was now, wonder about the things that he was wondering about now.

She sounded exactly like his father.

The warning tone, the speech patterns, of course he would understand if it happened between his father and Uncle John, but for something _relatively_ intimate to happen between two people who _supposedly barely_ saw one another, it sparked his curiosity.

Adding to the fact that there was a hefty probability that there was no way his father would waste his time on cases bringing him along just so that he can see the cadavers.

He knew he was top priority, however, the cases were very close behind.

“Why aren’t you dating my Daddy?”

He expected spluttering, the way she did around Daddy, however, all he had gotten in return were bug eyes and a posture so straight it made _him_ uncomfortable.

William tried his hardest to keep reading the files and watching the slide, he failed.

“Miss Molly?”

“…”

“I haven’t broken you... have I?”

He jumped and turned fast when the door opened, he received a perplexed look from his father-who was about to address the frozen Pathologist “William, what are you doi-” the Detective stopped as he let his eyes drift to the only other person in the room questioningly “Molly?”

Quickly, and with the files in his hands, the young boy ran behind his father as he watched the Doctor he had apparently broken.

“William, what did you do to Molly?” the Detective had ended up having to ask as he impatiently made his way towards the Pathologist and shook her with his hands on her arms.

“I only asked her a question!”

He received another confused look from his father, tall, imposing, ominous.

“May I hear the question?”

“Yo-I-no.” the boy winced “No you may not.”

“And why not?”

“Because it was a private conversation between me and… a friend.” Drawing confidence from his posture, he stopped hugging the file to his chest and proudly put it under his arm.

“William.”

And there it was again.

“Because of that!” he cracked.

“Because of what?” his father heightened his voice’s pitch, he was getting impatient, with every second spent interrogating his son about the frozen pathologist in front of him a murderer was getting away.

“I asked her why she wasn’t dating you because you were mimicking one another’s speech patterns- _despite_ ” the young boy drew a deep breath in as he emphasized on the word “the apparent, the _assumed_ fact that you don’t spend enough time together.”

A moment passed.

“Daddy?”

Another moment passed.

The young boy rolled his eyes.

“Oh great, now I have _two_ broken geniuses.”

He heard a laugh behind him, just outside the door his Uncle walked towards him “What? Do you need an idiot?”

“Uncle John! Please tell me you heard everything!”

“Heard what?”

“Nothing!” the two highly contrasting voices exclaimed simultaneously.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing, John, I’ve-uh, I’ve an idea on who might _not_ be our killer, let’s go, and William?” the newly arrived Doctor watched in confusion as the three ‘geniuses’ stiffly moved about “You’re going home with Doctor-with…” none of them missed the look he gave the Pathologist, the look he had reserved for his infant son, and now, growing son “ _Molly_ today.”

“Oh?” John played his part “Are we going home late? Molly need to babysit?”

The father broke eye contact with the Pathologist and looked at his own son with amusement “No,” he turned and began walking “they’re going home to baker street.”

**Author's Note:**

> It’s less than what I would have wanted it to be, but as soon as I wrote the idea I lost the mojo for it! I still hope you like it though! I’m getting back to writing the few Sherlolly fics that I’ve put off for a while now!


End file.
